


Be fruitful and multiply

by adreadfulidea



Category: Mad Men
Genre: F/M, Older Woman/Younger Man, PWP, Pregnancy Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreadfulidea/pseuds/adreadfulidea
Summary: Rachel and Michael decide to make a baby.





	Be fruitful and multiply

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildcard_47](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildcard_47/gifts).



 

 

Dinner at the Hearst’s was at seven that night. Michael and Rachel were twenty minutes late. For once it wasn’t his fault.

Rachel had completely forgotten about the entire thing until Michael’s phone call alerted her. He was, apparently, paying more attention to their social schedule than she was. She changed in her office in a rush and took a cab to meet him in midtown, outside Tom and Billie Hearst’s building.

Michael was waiting there for her, very handsome in the suit she’d gotten him for their anniversary. He didn’t care how he dressed, still; but she liked to buy him clothes and most of the time he would indulge her by wearing them. He was carrying a bottle of wine.

“You said to bring a housewarming gift,” he said, holding it up. “This counts, right?”

“It counts,” she said. Halfway down the hall Michael stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Wait, wait,” he said, and touched his fingertips to her earlobe. “Honey, you’re kinda missing one.”

“For god’s sake,” she huffed, and dropped the lone remaining earring into her purse.

“Busy day?” he asked.

“It’s lucky I managed to put matching shoes on.”

The new apartment was a very modern affair, all right angles and solid, bold colors. Rachel smiled and handed the wine to Billie, who was still wearing her maternity clothes. “How’s the newest addition?” she asked.

“Sleeping,” she said, holding a finger up to her lips. “Though I’m sure she’ll be up any second.”

They’d needed a bigger apartment once the baby came. Rachel and Michael passed the nursery on the way to the kitchen. There was a nanny sitting by the bassinet in a rocking chair, reading. Rachel saw Michael look inside as they went by, at the cloud-painted walls and little blanketed form.

“She’s so little,” he whispered.

Rachel squeezed his hand, impulsively. “They usually are.”

Really, the place was so clean you would never know children lived there. At least not until they burst out of their bedroom in the middle of dinner, battling each other.

They had clearly not been in bed, because what child ever would be during their parent’s party? You stayed awake and spied on the adults, that was the rule. Tina, their daughter, had a makeshift cape tied around her shoulders made out of a towel. Her brother was trying to tear it off her.

“I wanna be Superman!” he was saying. “Girls don’t get to be superheroes!”

“Yes they do!” she howled, and they fell over.

Billie groaned and started to stand up. But Michael got there first.

His chair was the closest. He separated them quickly, straightened the little girl’s cape before it strangled her, and sat them on the couch. “I think you gotta apologize to your sister,” he said to Charlie. “For that superhero crack. Girls can definitely be superheroes - what about Wonder Woman?”

“But not Superman!” he protested. “He’s a _boy_.”

“He’s a Kryptonian,” said Michael. “How do you know Superman isn’t just a title, like doctor or teacher or president? You have girl teachers, don’t you?”

“So?” he sulked.

“And boy teachers, too?”

“Yeah.”

“So there are enough capes to go around,” Michael said. He crouched down, eye level with the children. “And I bet if you make up I can get your Mom and Dad to let you stay up for a bit.” He looked over at Billie. “One TV show?” he asked. “I promise I’ll pick something appropriate.”

“Oh god,” Billie said, laughing. “Sure, go ahead.”

He was doing a good job with the kids, keeping them focused on the television until they started to get relaxed and sleepy. Rachel kept looking over. It was such a nice tableaux, three dark heads bent together. They might have been his.

Eventually the nanny came out and fetched them back to bed. Michael waved goodbye.

The image stayed with her. In the cab on the way home she tucked herself under his arm. “Do you ever think about it?” she asked.

“About what?”

“Trying,” she said, and watched every atom in his body light up.

 

 

Michael couldn’t stop touching her; in the elevator, his hand on her waist, rubbing up and down her back. She could almost feel the excitement humming under his skin, just from standing next to him. By the time they reached their door they were kissing. And they never made it to the bed.

He backed her up against the wall seconds after she’d slid the lock into place behind them. Her skirt ended up bunched around her hips, her garters undone, and her underwear on the floor.

She groaned as he pushed inside her, her back arching. God, he was so _frantic_ \- hands sliding up the back of her thighs, cupping her bottom. His hips were stuttering as he fucked her, and it was like that first time, their first time ever, when he’d been all instinct and desperation. She wrapped a leg around him and he stopped for a second, panting.

She gave his hair a tug. “Keep going.”

Michael kissed her and smiled against her mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she said. “Now give me what I need.”

Which he did, putting Rachel up on her toes, rubbing between her legs with his clever fingers on each thrust. Both of them out of control, scrambling at each other -

“ _Fuck_ , Michael,” she sobbed out, and came. He followed seconds after, hiding his face in the side of her neck, shy as a virgin. She blew out a satisfied breath and brushed some loose hair back.

“Well, that was fun,” she said. “But you know I can’t get pregnant yet.”

He pulled back to look at her. There was a distinct shame-flush across his cheeks; obviously the idea was doing a lot for him. Her own stomach clenched in anticipation, seeing him so undone. “No?”

“I have to go off the pill first,” she reminded him, gently.

“Oh,” he said. “Right.”

 

 

Rachel thought that getting pregnant would involve a lot of schedules and slightly clinical sex. She could not have been more wrong.

Michael couldn’t wait to get between her legs. He attacked the idea with a completely unbridled enthusiasm. They had sex when Rachel got up in the morning, when she came home, and once in her office when he stopped by to bring her lunch.

“Remember our first time in here?” she asked, lying next to him on the floor. She’d locked the door. They had time.

“Not likely to forget,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “It was my first time ever.”

“I’m still proud of that,” Rachel said.

They’d stopped sleeping with clothes on. When Rachel woke in the middle of the night she rolled over to look at him. He was asleep on his stomach, face turned towards her on the pillow. She brushed her hand against his cheek and his eyes popped open immediately.

“It’s so disturbing when you do that,” she said.

“You’re the one feeling me up when I’m asleep,” he said.

The moonlight was pouring in the window from a cool, deep blue sky. In the city it was too bright for it to be truly black. They were high up and the view was that sky and the sparkling windows across and below. It was something she had always appreciated about living in New York.

“Beautiful night,” she said.

“Mmhm,” he said. “Hey, I’ve been thinking. About the kid.”

“How so?”

“Nannies,” he said. “I don’t think we should have one.”

Rachel stared. She hadn’t expected to have to fight him on this. _Should_ she have? She had thought -

“You want me to stay home,” she said.

His eyebrows came together in confusion so intense that it would have been comical any other time, or in reaction to any other subject. “When did I say that?”

“Isn’t that what you meant?” she asked, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “That I should stay home with the baby?”

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “No. I meant _I_ should. I’m home half the time anyway.”

Michael worked part time and wrote the rest of it. Getting him to that point had been a struggle. He didn’t like relying on anyone, especially not in the beginning. He’d gotten a full time job, and then he got _another_. Freelance advertising, which she knew he’d wanted to leave behind. She’d been insulted - why go back to an industry that did nothing but belittle him? - and they got into a fight. And another fight. And then he worked himself into a case of pneumonia.

After which he’d seen her point.

(She’d watched him sleep for hours, terrified each labored breath might be his last. The hospital staff couldn’t get her to go home.)

“- and a nurse would be okay, for when I’m not here,” Michael was saying, “or still learning. But honestly I think my father would be happy to fill in -”

She leaned over and kissed him, right in the middle of a sentence.

He pulled back but she followed him, mouthing at his jaw and sliding a hand between his legs. “ _That’s_ what turns you on?” he asked. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said, and gave him a nice, tight stroke. “And getting me pregnant does it for you.”

He twitched under her hands and closed his eyes. As though he could hide from her, as though she couldn’t read his desire in every part of his body.

“What is it?” she asked. “The idea of creating new life? The way my body is going to change? Do you want to see me round with your child, Michael? My breasts swollen and sensitive -”

“ _Jesus_ ,” he said, like it was being torn from him. “All of it.”

He put his mouth on her first. “That isn’t going to get me pregnant,” she murmured.

“You want me to stop?”

“No,” she said. In fact, it had given her an idea. “Get on your back,” she instructed him. He grinned at her. He thought he knew how this was going to go.

She let him lick her almost to a climax, biting her lip to hold it off. Hips rocking against his face, slicking him up, almost by accident. She wasn’t done yet. But it was - god, it was hard. He had a talented mouth and he knew what she liked.

She eased back, resting on his chest, panting. He slid two fingers inside her immediately, making her jerk with pleasure. “ _Fuck_ ,” she hissed, grabbing at his wrist.

“Not enough?” he said. “You want my hands instead -”

He was going to make her come too fast if she let him keep it up. “I want your cock,” she said. “Stay exactly where you are.”

She rode him next, until her thighs started to ache. Until he was making broken, desperate sounds, the ones she loved hearing. And then she stopped.

“Come on,” he whined, and flinched as she pulled off him. “What -”

She crawled back up towards his face, his wet beautiful mouth. Settled her thighs on either side of his head.

He caught on. Sucked her until she was clenching her teeth against a scream.

“Stop,” she said.

“Oh, fuck,” he said. He looked delirious or dizzy, grabbing blindly for her as she slid down his cock again. She held his hands down and used him the way she wanted to. But she didn’t let him come.

“Oh god,” he said, when she stopped riding him again, let him slip loose, vulnerable and desperate in the unfriendly air. “Ah - Rachel, _please_. I can’t take this -”

“Shhh,” she said. “You can. Once more, Michael. Only one more time.”

He pressed his tongue in her with no finesse at all, sloppy puppyish licks, groaning so deep she felt it too and it was perfect just _perfect_ his mouth his hands and god, _god_ \- she was coming, sobbing through it, her whole body seizing up like a precisely plucked bowstring.

It took her a few minutes to recover. He waited for her, like she knew he would. He was so good.

She let him know, getting his cock in her one last time. “Good boy,” she said, smiling wickedly and grinding down. “You’re exactly what I wanted. I’m so glad I married you. You’ll make a wonderful father.”

“ _Rachel_ ,” he said, and came with water standing in his eyes, half-cringing, blushing so hard it stretched down his chest. Giving her everything he had.

She let him sleep, after, He’d earned it.

 

 


End file.
